Hogwarts, A (Highly Selective and Random) History
by lunylovegoodlover
Summary: A series of random one-shots. All generations. "She hadn't even considered not coming, ever since Professor McGonagall had shown up at her door. Even though it was hundreds of kilometers away, even though it would mean leaving her parents and friends and family, even though she would be throwing herself into a world she knew nothing about, she had never hesitated."
1. Hermione

October 30, 1991

Dear Mum and Dad,

Hogwarts is

Hermione stared at the page, a letter she had attempted to start the day before. She had promised to write to her worried parents at least once a week. Oblivious and naive as she was, she had thought it would be an easy promise to keep. And indeed, the first few letters had been long, full of exuberant descriptions of the journey, the castle, and her classes. There are four houses here, she had told them. It's a wonderful idea - your house is your family while you're here. You do everything with them. I'm in the best one, Gryffindor. We're supposed to be brave and daring and chivalrous. The headmaster was in Gryffindor and our Head of House is Professor McGonagall. You remember her, don't you? She's the one who came to explain the wizarding world to us.

What she had neglected to mention were the other students. They weren't what she had expected. A couple of boys on the train had called her some things she didn't understand but that sounded nasty. People seemed to think that it mattered that she was from a muggle family. She didn't mind that so much; she had almost expected it. She had thought she would have to work harder than ever to catch up to the other students.

No, the hard thing was that even the students who didn't care she was a "muggleborn" didn't like her. They thought she was a bossy goody-two-shoes know-it-all. All the words that had been thrown at her at her old school stung even more here. At least at home she had had friends to defend her. Here, there was no one.

And the very worst thing was that everyone else seemed to fall into place. None of them had known each other, either, but they had already formed cliques before the train even got to Hogwarts. Hermione didn't know how they did it. Surely there was some other nice, smart, friendly, slightly nerdy girl in her year that she could be friends with. But there wasn't - at least, not that she could find. And if there was, she would probably hate Hermione too, laugh at her for her oh-so-obvious love of school. They didn't understand that to a naturally curious girl who had dreamed of magic all her life, Hogwarts was heaven.

And so the loneliness was accompanied by the bursting of a beautiful dream. She hadn't even considered not coming, ever since Professor McGonagall had shown up at her door. Even though it was hundreds of kilometers away, even though it would mean leaving her parents and friends and family, even though she would be throwing herself into a world she knew nothing about, Hermione had never hesitated, never thought she might be making a mistake. Which made it all the worst that she was miserable. In vain she told herself that she was lucky to be there, that she was stupid to be so unhappy, to forget about the other kids and just concentrate on school. What good is something magical when you have no one to share it with?

On top of that, everything was aggravated by a feeling that it was all her fault. Everyone else had found friends - why couldn't she? She was afraid to talk to people, that's what it all came down to. Afraid of what, she wasn't sure, but she just couldn't get up the courage to go and talk to them. She was sure they were going to laugh at her or, worse, talk to her out of pity and then go away. And the Sorting Hat called her a Gryffindor.

Hermione was an outsider. A muggleborn in a wizarding world, a coward in Gryffindor, a passionately nerdy girl surrounded by people who couldn't care less. She was invisible. No one reached out to her and the few times she spoke to people she made a mess of things.

With a sigh, Hermione crumped up the letter she had started. Things will get better, she told herself sternly. I'll find some nice girl - a Ravenclaw, maybe - and make friends with her. Or maybe I'll ask Parvati if I can sit with her and Lavender today at lunch. It'll get better. It has to.

A bell rang and she leapt to her feet, grabbing her bag and double-checking to make sure she had her wand. Time for Charms, she thought happily. And Professor Flitwick said we actually get to try a levitation spell today!

The rest, as they say, is history.


	2. Cafe

A lot of interesting people come into this cafe. Good and bad. I remember every single one, and that's something in and of itself. Fifty years I've been running this cafe, and I still remember all my customers perfectly. It gets to the point where you can tell what sort of person they are the instant they walk in. Most of the time, anyway. That's the marvelous thing about people; they're always surprising you.

Take this one girl for example. I've been thinking about her a lot recently, for some reason or another. This weather, for one thing. Everyone's been saying that it's the most dreary thing they've ever seen, but I remember differently. There was one winter - I suppose it's been about twenty years now, but I remember - it was like this. Only worse. There were terrorist attacks going on in London at the same time and everyone was just ridiculously depressed. And then there was the time about twenty years before that - my goodness, this makes me feel old - but anyway, that was the last time I saw her. About forty years ago, now. I suppose she's a middle aged woman now - she must be nearing sixty. She looked a bit like your sister. They've got the same red hair, yes, but it's more than that. They've got the same soul.

Well, that's what I was telling you, wasn't it? When you've seen as many people as I have walk through that door, you get to be able to figure them out pretty quick. And it's not like they were hiding it. Your sister's spirit's just shining through her. It was the same with this girl I'm talking about.

Who was she? Oh, just some girl who lived in the neighborhood. I can't remember her name - it's been plaguing me for days. I didn't see her often, though her sister came round often enough. Oh, yes, sure I knew her sister. Not a very attractive young woman - nothing compared to her sister, but pretty enough, I suppose. Married well, I think. Had a heart of gold, she did, but she hid it away. She was one of those ones that was always looking out for a husband. I always wondered what had happened to her.

They didn't get along, you know, the two sisters. They were too different. When they were little it didn't matter that much - they sat and giggled and talked. But then something changed - oh, goodness, I don't know what. Something over a boy, I think. I saw the younger one - the redhead - with him once and awhile before she disappeared.

Oh, no, not off the face of the earth. To boarding school, I think. I still saw her in the summers, but, well, she was gone a good three fourths of the year. It just made things harder with her sister. You know how it can be. Or I suppose you don't. You're too young to know about that. I don't think they really realized it at the time.

The sister? Oh, goodness, no, I don't know what happened to her. She wasn't with the younger one the last time I saw her.

That was forty years ago. I said that earlier, I think. She wasn't even twenty at the time. Oh, no, she wasn't her friends. She was alone. Or at least, she was at first.

I recognized her the moment she walked in. I pride myself on that, you know, remembering everyone who comes in.. I'd seen her a couple of times with a group of friends in the last couple of years, but never by herself and not recently. She looked... different. Something had changed since the last time she'd been in. She had that look that you sometimes see on veterans, you know? Where they've just been pushed and pushed and they've nearly been broken but they're still fighting? That's what she looked like. Dead exhausted, she was, nearly asleep on her feet. But you could tell just by looking at her that she still had a lot to do.

I asked her what I could get for her, and she said, "Chocolate." Just the one word. Well, I fancy I know a soul who needs a little pick-me-up when I see it, so I went and sliced her a big slice of my famous chocolate cake. The same stuff you're eating now. It's my grandmother's recipe, and I've never found one that can beat it.

She perked up right away when she saw it. She thanked me nicely and set to eating. It was a big slice that I'd given her, though, so she paused about halfway through and started talking to me. It was an innocent enough subject - the weather. "Nasty day out, isn't it?" she said.

"Oh, yes," I said. "Horrible. I've never seen the like. Depressing month all around."

"Yes," she said, poking at the cake. "Chocolate helps, have you noticed?"

"Chocolate helps everything," I told her. It's true, but it was more true then than ever. Sometimes when things are bad you just have to eat chocolate, and that was one of those times. Just trying to make conversation, I said, "There's been a bunch of crime around here lately, have you heard?"

I was not expecting her to react the way she did. Nearly chocked on her cake, she did. When she was recovered, she began to interrogate me. "What sort of crime?"

"Oh, vandalism, small thefts, that sort of thing. Nothing major."

"Has anyone been hurt?"

"Not that I know of." And I fancy that I was right in saying that, because if I don't know of it it's not worth knowing.

"Does anyone know who did it?"

Well, I never got to answer that question, because just then the door opened and who should walk in but the gang that was suspected of the crimes. Fate works like that sometimes, you know. There's a reason phrases like "speak of the devil" were invented. And if those boys weren't the devil, they certainly worked for him.

Their names? Well, funny you should mention that, because the girl, she knew them. The moment they walked in she whirled around and put her hand in her pocket, as if she was going to draw a gun or something. One of them scoffed at her, calling her some name or another - dirt blood or something like that. Mudblood? Yes, that sounds right. I can't quite recall.

Bold as anything, she was, never mind the odds. Just walked straight up to them and greeted them all by name. Called it a reunion, sneering at them the whole time. She was utterly in control of the situation, you could tell.

She sort of singled out the two of the boys. One of them was about her age, a greasy haired boy that I remembered. He was from Spinner's End, the poorer side of town. His family never patronized my shop, and to be honest, I'm rather glad they didn't. Everyone knew his father was a drunkard and his mother had no backbone. I felt rather sorry for the poor boy, but it wasn't my problem and he never did anything to make me like him

She used to be friends with him, I think, years before. I'd seen the talking in the park together. They'd had a falling out, I guess, because she certainly wasn't very friendly towards him that day. Ignored him, for the most part, but you could tell from the way she looked at them they had History. He tried to talk to her as they were leaving - oh, yes, they did leave. One against five, and she won that little skirmish. Said that they were wanted citizens but she had nothing to lose by calling in the government and they just froze up and walked out.

He was the one who suggested they leave. Said they didn't want any trouble. The others rolled their eyes at that, but they agreed in the end. He did try to talk to her then, but she just glared at him. Oh, yes, there was something between them. Oh, good heavens, no, I don't remember his name. My memory isn't that good, boy.

The last one? He was younger than the rest of them by two or three years, I'd guess. He was small, a little scrawny, but he just oozed arrogance. You know the sort. Overly confident, think they're all that. Of course you know them! You're one of them, probably, when you aren't sweet talking little old ladies.

But unlike you, everything about this boy was dark. He looked like a hero from one of the Bronte sisters' books. All dark and sulky and brooding and arrogant. But like I said, he was younger than the rest. My goodness, did she freak out when she saw him! There was some history between them, too, or something of the sort, because she just went pale when she saw him there. Demanded to know what he was doing, asked if he wanted to get himself killed. He just smirked and that he knew what he was doing. She invoked some name or another - I don't recall it, no. I'll always remember the look on her face when he said that he didn't care what whoever-it-was thought. She yelled out, "He's your brother!" and he just turned and said, that no, he wasn't. Heartbreaking, it was. Just heartbreaking.

That's when she threatened to call the police. They left, and she just sort of collapsed. All the bravo went out of her and she just crumpled onto her stool again. "Do you know them?" she asked me. I told her I'd seen them a few times. She told me they were bad news and gave me a hotline I ought to call if I saw them again.

I didn't ask her any questions, just took the number. She was shaking by then - could barely hold her fork. Those boys had upset her, that was for sure. She didn't even notice when the door opened again.

It was another boy about her age. He looked just as tired as she did, and that was saying something. There was something a little off about him. Oh, nothing bad, just that he didn't quite fit in. It was like he was wearing someone else's clothes or something. I don't know exactly - it's hard to explain. But you could tell he was different.

She started when he put a hand on her shoulder - jumped nearly a foot in the air. She nearly fainted when she saw who it was. "Don't you dare do that to me again!" she snapped at him.

He wasn't fazed. He just grinned at her and slipped his arms around her waist. I hadn't seen him before, but it was clear she knew him. Knew him rather well, if the way she kissed him later was any indication.

There was a ring on her finger, actually, now that I think about it. A nice thing, the sort that only can be an engagement ring. I seem to remember that he was rather surprised to see it, but quite glad as well. I can only assume he gave it to her. I certainly hope so, for I never saw a better matched pair. It wasn't just that they looked nice together, though they certainly did, but that they just seemed to fit. You could tell just by looking at them that they were in love.

Anyway, he could tell right away that something had upset her. I stayed out of it - goodness knows I've had my share of lover's quarrels - there was no need for me to get into the middle of theirs. She was ringing a right peal over him for surprising her like that but he knew what was up. Just took her face in his hands and demanded to know what had happened. Well, she broke down quick enough - just shivered all of a sudden and leaned against him. "They were here," she said, and listed all the names of those boys.

"Four to one?" he cried. "We've got to start being more careful."

"Five to one," she corrected him. She told him all about that last boy, the young one, and he just kept getting paler and paler.

"He'll go mad," he said, referring, I suppose, to the brother she had mentioned earlier. I know I'd be rather furious if any brother of mine was hanging about with that lot, that's for certain.

They didn't stay long after that. He stole bites of her cake as they attempted to keep a light conversation flowing. She reminisced about old times spent here, he complimented me on the cake and asked if he could come by later and buy a whole one. Well, I said I'd be glad to make one, but goodness me did I hope that he was going to share it, because my cakes are big. She laughed and said that she had yet to see a cake he and his friends couldn't finish in under an hour.

Now, my cake is pretty popular and normally I'd never dream of giving away the recipe. But they seemed to like it so much, and, honestly, I figured they could use it. Whatever it was that was upsetting them so badly, I doubted they deserved it. So I went into the back to get them the recipe. When I came back, who had walked in but an old friend of hers, a boy who's lived here all his life. Still does, matter of fact. Tim Galton, nice upstanding fellow. After the last batch that walked in, they were both a tad jumpy. She saw him right away and if you ask me, she wasn't all that pleased to see him.

"Tim," she said, all surprised like. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" he said with a laugh, going over to give her a hug and a peck on the cheek. He held her a little longer than necessary, I remember, but her boyfriend didn't seem to mind. If anything, it amused him. "What brings you back here?"

"Chocolate," she said, gesturing the cake. "I had to show my fiancé" - and mark you, she said that on purpose, letting him know she was already called for - "what he was missing."

The boy introduced himself and the two of them glared at each other for a minute or two before I decided that enough was enough. I bustled in, clearing up her plate and slipping her the recipe. Tim wouldn't have been happy to know I'd given it to her - his mother was always pestering me for it. But that's the nice thing about owning your own place. You can decide who to give what to. And Mrs. Galton did not deserve my chocolate cake, not like that girl did.

She and her boyfriend or fiancé or whatever left not long after that. I've always sort of wondered what happened to them. I like to think that they sorted out whatever had them so freaked and lived happily ever after.

Their names? Well, I never knew his and I can't remember hers. I'm good with people but absolutely horrible at remembering their names. But I do know her mother was Violet Evans and she and her sister both had flower names. Lily? That could be it. Why? Do you know her?

Your grandmother? My goodness, time really has gone by, hasn't it? She was as young as you when I saw her last. How is she?

What do you mean, dead? She's years younger than I am! Murdered? Good god, you can't mean it! The poor dear! When? Oh, goodness... well, that certainly explains why that sister of yours looks like her. Come to think of it, I think that boy of hers looked a bit like you. What happened to him? Oh, the world is cruel place. Those two didn't deserve to die. They were too happy.

Well, if you never knew her, this was the least I could do! Goodness gracious, boy, you don't think I'd begrudge you a story, now, do you? Heaven knows I've got enough of them. It's me that should be thanking you, for listening. Quite a coincidence, my thinking of her today. No doubt she's an angel now, flying about and poking thoughts into my head.

Look here, now. When you're done with that cake, you go straight out of here and down that street there across the road. The Evanses lived on Olive Street. That's off Randall, three blocks down that street. Got that? Down that street, left on Randall, right on Olive. It's quite simple, you shouldn't have any trouble. I don't think their house has been much changed since Violet and Franklin died - her parents, you know. It's a blue house with white trim with a neat little picket fence out front. Tim - I told you about Tim, didn't I? Tim Galton? His house is next door. Ring the bell and tell him I sent you. He'll know all about your grandmother, mark my words. Thick as thieves, those two were.

And that sister of hers. Whatever happened to her? I'm sure someone must know... oh, you know her? Well, get her to talk, then. She must have known her own sister. You'll find more about your grandparents easily, mark my words. Remember now, straight on down that street there, then left on Randall, right on Olive, and the blue house with white trim and a white picket fence. You can't miss it.

What? Oh, that's my granddaughter. Not nearly as good-looking as you and your sister, but a nice enough girl. She owns this cafe now. I'm too old to be on my feet all day. But I still like to come in and look things over. She hates it. She thinks I'm senile, don't you, dear? Think your old Granny has gone dotty? Well, perhaps I have. But I've still got some use in this old world, you see! I can still remember things. I'm still alive and kicking. And I reckon I shall be for quite some time yet.


	3. Weddings

"No," you told her. "Absolutely not."

"I'm doing this with or without your permission," she said. "I love him."

"He was best friends with my cousin!" you cried. "He's almost old enough to be your father."

"You say it like I don't know!" she burst out. "He's told me the same thing, time and time again. He's too old, he's a werewolf, I deserve someone better but I. Don't. Care. He's the best man I've ever met and I love him and I know he loves me and I _will_ marry him!"

"Nymphadora," you said, trying desperately to find your daughter in this woman who stood before you. "You're too young to be thinking of getting married."

She laughed, the hard laugh of a heartbroken woman. "What, like you were?"

"That was different," you snap.

"Mum, I love him and he loves me, so what else matters?"

"He won't be able to support you."

"So I'll support him. What's wrong with that? It's not like you and Dad had any money at the beginning."

"Don't you see?" you burst out. "All of that – me running away from home, us not having anything but each other – we did that because we had to! I don't want that for you."

"What, do you wish that you'd stayed?" she asked, her voice rising almost hysterically.

"Of course not!" How could she even think that? "But just because it was the right choice doesn't mean it was _easy_!"

"So don't make me choose! Because I will choose him every time." You started to say something, but she cut you off. "I don't want to lose you," she said. "But I'm going to marry him, Mum, and nothing you can say is going to change my mind." Before you could respond, she turned on her heel and disapparated.

You stared after her for a long moment, wondering how in the world things had ended up this way. You wanted her to be happy, of course you did, but a _werewolf_. He couldn't be trusted. And even if he could, even if he had the best intentions and the purest heart, how could they be certain that their children wouldn't turn out like him? You wanted grandchildren, not puppies.

Her face floated in front of your mind and you were hit by a pang of remorse. Maybe she was right. If she really loved him and he really loved her, what did it matter that he was your generation, or that he was poor, or that once a month he would become a murderous beast? Shouldn't love win out over all that? You had believed that, once, a very long time ago. You had been idealistic and naïve and had no idea of how much heartbreak you had been setting yourself up for. But you had made it this far, hadn't you? You and Ted. Who was to say that she couldn't do the same?

There was a soft knock on the door and your husband poked his head around the corner. "Is she gone?" he asked quietly. When you raised your head to nod, you found that tears were streaming down your cheeks. He sighed, a soft sound full of regret, and pulled you into his arms. "It's going to be okay," he whispered.

"She's going to marry the werewolf," you said through your tears. "She'd choose him over us."

"Like you chose me over your family?"

"He was one of Sirius' best friends," you said, your voice breaking on your cousin's name (only he wasn't your cousin, not any more, not since he had become a traitor).

"He's not Sirius," he reminded you. "He was likely as torn up about it as you were."

"He's too old."

"Dora needs someone more mature," he said. "You know that. They'll complement each other."

"They'll starve."

"We can help them." When you were silent, he pressed on. "We can either make this easier for them or harder, Dromeda. It's our choice."

"I wanted something better for her," you whispered.

"She has to make her own path," he said. When you met his eyes, he was smiling. "She'll be all right," he promised. "They'll be happy no matter what."

"She's still fighting in this ridiculous war," you said. "If she dies…"

"She won't die," he said, a little sharply, and all at once you remembered that this had to be just as hard for him as it was for you. You leaned his head against his chest and breathed in his deep, comforting scent.

"You really think they'll be okay?"

"I know it," he whispered.

And so it was that only a week later, you stood in front of a Ministry official and watched as your daughter pledged her heart and soul to a scarred man with graying hair and dilapidated robes. Watching them, you found that you didn't mind the marriage quite so much. Maybe it had something to do with the way he was looking at her, as though he could hardly believe that this was happening. Or maybe it was the way that she seemed to be positively glowing as she recited her vows. Or maybe it was simply the natural joy of any mother whose daughter was deeply and happily in love.

Whatever the cause, as they kissed and your hand found your husband's beside you, your heart swelled with joy and you thought that werewolf or not, this would count as one of the happiest days of your life.

"No," she told you. "Absolutely not."

You had suspected that she would say something of the sort.

"Are you mad?" she asked you. "You know it's impossible."

"Why?" you demanded. You were seventeen, top of your class, Head Girl, and a rich, spoiled brat.

"You know why," she said. "He's not like us."

"No," you said, rising up in defense of him even then. "He's better. A hundred thousand times better than any of us because he doesn't care a jot about this blood purity nonsense."

"Andi!" she gasped, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. "Bella's just over there, are you mad?" That's always how it was. Whenever you said a single thing that was just a peep out of line, she was always there, shielding you from Bella's wrath.

"Let her hear," you said, stupid and arrogant as you were. "I love him, Cissy, and I'm not ashamed of it."

"What about Lucius?" she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.

"Malfoy?" you said, incredulous. Oh, the irony of it all. Her trying to convince you to marry Malfoy. You had been informally engaged for years now, of course, but the official betrothal wouldn't occur until you graduated. And you had no intention of letting that happen.

"He's rich," she said. "And powerful."

"He's a Death Eater!"

"All the better," she said.

You laughed in shock. "You can't think that what the Dark Lord is doing is _right_." Even Bella wasn't quite as far gone as that, not then. Not yet.

"He's going to win," she told you. "Everyone knows it. Don't you want to be on the winning side?"

"They're not going to win," you said, and you were right. They didn't win, not really, but neither did you. You wagered that you could love him and keep her. You lost.

She caught you the night you left. It was inevitable, really, with the two of you sharing a room. She didn't ask where you were going, just said your name softly from the bedroom door. You froze, praying she wouldn't wake Bella. You had learned something by then.

She stared at you, her big blue eyes pleading. You had seem them work their magic on your parents a hundred times before. But that night, you stood firm.

"I'm leaving," you told her. Even then, you still thought that you could trust her. "I'm getting married." You had to smile at the thought.

"To the mudblood?" she asked quietly.

"He has a name," you snapped a little louder than you intended, your good mood evaporating. She shushed you, casting an anxious glance towards where Bella lay sleeping.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," you whispered back. And you were. You had no idea what in the world you were getting into, but you were ready for anything.

"You really love him?" she asked.

"With all my heart," you said.

"More than you love us."

It wasn't a question. You froze, unsure of how to express your inner turmoil in a way that your innocent little sister could understand.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. When you made yourself meet her eyes, they were full of tears. "You can find love other places. Please don't go, Andi, not like this."

The sound of your nickname nearly broke you, but the thought of Ted, waiting patiently outside, was too much. "I can't," you told her, but you were crying by then too. You wished desperately that she had just let you creep away into the night without a goodbye. Maybe that would have been better, in the long run, but you would never forget the way she looked that night, like an ethereal fairy in her white night gown with her pale skin and blonde hair. The innocence you had always associated with her was fading, though. You were making it leave.

"You won't be able to see any of us ever again," she said.

"That will be your choice, not mine," you said. It was easier to push the blame on them. "There are families where you can marry where you please without being disowned, you know."

"Muggle families," she said. "That's not us, Andi. We're better than that!"

"We're worse," you said. "What's the point in cutting me off? It's only going to cause heartbreak."

"You're the one disobeying them," she said. "Can't you just let it go?"

"For what?" you demanded. "In a year I'll be married to Malfoy and you still won't ever see me." She opened her mouth, but you ignored it "I have to do this, Cissy. I _want_ to do this. It's the only way I'll be happy."

"I'll scream," she said desperately. "If you go, I'll scream and I'll wake everyone up."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Even if Bella hadn't been right there, you don't think you could have spoken any louder. Your heart was already making too much noise, pounding in your chest and shattering into a million pieces. You couldn't do this any longer. You picked up your bags once more.

"I really will scream," she warned you in a panicked whisper.

"I'll be long gone by the time they get here," you said, striving to make your voice just a little more professionally distant.

"Please, Andi."

You couldn't take it any longer. Dropping your bags with a thud, you gathered her into your arms and pressed your lips to her hair. "I love you," you whispered. "Always and forever. You remember that, okay?" Before her arms could fully wind around you, you had stepped back and grabbed your things.

Betrayal clear in her eyes, she opened her mouth. You heard her scream as you dashed down the back staircase. Her tearful explainations reached your ears just as you got to the door. It was unlocked, and it seemed to you that it was all too easy to throw it open and dash into the street outside. It ought to have been harder to leave the only home you had ever known. But you weren't leaving home, not really. You were making a better one.

He was waiting for you down the block, looking absurbly average in his muggle clothes. When he caught sight of you, his face broke into the biggest smile you had ever seen. When he caught you up in his arms, you wanted nothing more than to drop your bags and melt into your embrace. It would all be okay now. You had him.

"I'd almost lost hope," he whispered against your hair. "What took you so long?"

"Cissy saw me," you said, pulling away reluctantly. "She told the others. We have to go."

Understanding flashed in his eyes and he grabbed a bag from you. His free hand caught yours and he pressed it to his lips for one long moment before saying, "There's an alley around the corner where we can apparate."

You ran with him and you didn't look back.

The wedding was simple. It was just you and him and the Ministry official who was marrying you. You were wearing a worn blue dress (you absolutely refused to wear the oppressively fancy clothes your mother had forced on you since you were born) and he was in a muggle suit. The official looked bored and the most exciting part was signing your new name on a paper.

There was nothing romantic in the least about it, but every once and a while you met your husband's – he was your husband! – eye and he smiled at you and absolutely nothing else in the world mattered. Your hand snuck under your shirt to rest on your stomach for a moment and you had to smile. You had an unborn baby and a wonderful amazing beautiful _perfect_ husband and you loved him and he loved you and your family could go rot in a hole for all you cared because _this_ was your happily ever after.

"No," you told him. "Absolutely not."

"But –"

"Teddy Remus Lupin, if you set one foot inside that store I swear I will disown you."

"Okay, okay!" he said, throwing up his hands. "I'll just go find the others, then." With a grin, he turned to go. You caught his arm as he started to turn, though, and pulled him to you in an atypical display of affection. His arms slid around you – a sensation you had been feeling for years but that was still oh so precious.

"I can't believe you're getting married," you whispered. You could feel his smile grow.

"Me neither," he admitted softly.

"You're sure about this?" you couldn't help but ask. "You're so young."

He pulled back slightly to look at you as he said, "I'm sure." You don't doubt him. Your grandson knows his mind very well (maybe a little too well, but then, you only have your genes to blame for that) and you certainly aren't disputing his taste in women. It's just that you don't know his fiancée very well just yet and you can't help but want to keep him to yourself for just a moment longer. It seems so strange that he's all grown up, that little boy who landed on your doorstep that fateful day all those years ago. It was even stranger to think that he'll be able to grow old, to see his grandchildren. You had become used to having people go before their time.

He gave you one last grin as he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron to find the rest of his soon to be in laws. You were smiling as well as you entered the shop, but the expression fell straight off your face when you see what's inside.

"Do you like it?" she asked, glancing self consciously down at the dress.

"Yes," you said when you could speak again. "Goodness me, yes. It's stunning."

"She ees very beautiful, ees she not?" her mother said, beaming.

"Absolutely lovely," you said, moving closer to inspect the fabric. "May I?" you asked, drawing your wand.

"Of course," she said. You went to work, tweaking a little bit of fabric here and readjusting a little sprig of lace there. The changes you made were all minor, but oh, goodness, how you loved playing with wedding dresses. "Thank you," she said when you were done and once she had looked herself over in the mirror. The smile she gave you was a tad shy, the first time you had seen the confident girl express any doubt.

Before you could say anything, the door banged open and a redhaired blur rushed in. "Vicki!" the young girl shrieked. "Vicki, you have to come help us, _please_!"

"Lily?" she asked, grabbing her young cousin's hand to ensure she didn't knock over a display. "What's going on?"

"Rose found a date for your wedding," the younger girl explained. "And it's wonderful and beautiful and they're absolutely _perfect_ for each other…"

"But?" she prompted.

"But it's _Scorpius_."

One of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Scorpios? As in…"

"Yeah," Lily said knowingly. "Uncle Ron's doesn't want him coming."

"Who is this?" you asked. It was probably rude for you to interrupt, but Fleur was talking with the sales lady about lingerie and you felt far more comfortable with this conversation.

"His dad was worst enemies with Dad when they were in school," Lily said.

"You-Know-Who?" you said, only half joking.

They laughed. "No, but he was from a family of Death Eaters," Lily said. "But Scorpius isn't like that at all! He's Al's best friend. Uncle Ron's just biased."

"Well," you said. "You go find your Uncle Ron and tell him from me that Rose and this Scorpius fellow sound like they will do very well together and that if they aren't allowed to attend the wedding, then I will be forced to boycott it."

"Really?" Lily's face was wide with glee. "You would do that?"

"Of course," you said. Your eyes met those of the bride in the mirror for one moment, and when she smiled, you thought that she understood you perfectly.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and early, one of those picturesque spring days where the sun is shining and the trees are blossoming but it's not so far into spring that everyone is attacked by allergies. You were busy all morning, running here and there, picking up this and that and continually foiling Teddy's attempts to sneak a peek at his bride. There was a strange humming energy in the air, the sort of feeling that one can only get when it's a big, big, big day. There were meltdowns and letdowns and lots of arguing over last minute seating arrangements, but for the most part everything ran relatively smoothly.

Finally, the Boy Who Lived popped out of nowhere and prepared to escort you to your seat. The lines between the groom's side and the bride's side were rather blurred, seeing as you had so little family left and the Weasley Clan was so immense. It was all one big mixture of bodies, crammed into a tent in the backyard of the Burrow. You heard more than one joke about how well the last wedding hosted there had ended.

The groom's party assembled at the front of the tent as the rest of you took your seats. Teddy's hair was flashing back and forth from bubblegum pink to turquoise, occasionally ending up in some strange splotchy pattern, a sure sign he was nervous.

The first notes of the wedding march sounded, prompting everyone to shoot to their feet. Peeking behind you, you could see that Teddy's face had gone slightly pale. Beside him, one of his friends shot him a knowing look.

A long precession of Weasleys began to make their way down the aisle. Nearly all of them smiled at you as they passed. When the bride and her father finally came into view, you beamed with pleasure. She was a sight to behold in her simple white gown with her hair gently curling around her head. Turning as she passed you, your heart swelled at the look she and Teddy exchanged. It was a look you knew well, for you had been on the receiving end of it once upon a time.

The ceremony flew by in a blur of words and images that you could barely see through your teary eyes. By the time they finally kiss, your heart is pounding and your eyes are overflowing. Someone passes you a handkerchief. This is your boy, your little boy, the last person you have left in the world. There's still a part of you that doesn't want to share him, but you know that the time has come to let go.

For one moment, as you look up at the happy couple, you almost think you can see another couple behind them, a man whose worn face belonged to someone much older than he and a woman whose flamboyant pink hair made her look far more immature than she was. Your tears came faster.

But then it was over and the people were all running to congratulate the newlyweds. A moment later, Teddy's arms were around you and you were holding him tight. The next second, you were embracing his wife – your granddaughter in law, now – and then you were being pushed aside by others.

Laughing slightly to yourself, you made your way out of the tent to have a moment to yourself. Privacy was rare at the Burrow at the best of times, and you hadn't been alone all day.

"Aunt Andi?" Nor, did it seem, were you destined to remain alone much longer. You turned to see a pretty redhead standing before you.

"Rose," you said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Brilliant," she said. She shot a glance behind her, and for the first time you noticed the boy. Something long forgotten stirred in the pit of your stomach. "I just wanted to thank you."

"For what?" you asked, your attention still focused on the boy.

"For making Dad let Scorpius come," she said. "Lily told me what you did."

"It was my pleasure," you said, holding out your hand to the boy. "I'm Andromeda Tonks."

"Scorpius Malfoy," he said with a smile. You froze.

"Malfoy?" you repeated.

His smile faltered, just ever so slightly. "Yeah," he said, trying to shrug it off. "My family…"

"Is nothing like him," Rose interrupted. "The war's been over for years now. Last names shouldn't matter."

"Draco," you said, pulling the name from the depth of your memory. "Is that your father?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then Lucius is your grandfather."

"Yeah…" His confusion was clear, but you didn't pay attention. _Malfoy_. You had heard the name many times over the years, of course, often mentioned with disgust. But none of that mattered, because if Lucius was this boy's grandfather, then his grandmother…

"Scorpius." You froze at the sound of that voice.

"Nana," he said, turning in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Your father came looking for you," she said. "I did my best to cover for you, but they're getting suspicious."

You couldn't help but stare at her. The first thing you noticed is how _old_ she looked. You supposed you looked old too, but you never stopped picturing her as the little girl you left behind. Her hair was graying and wrinkles were starting to appear around her eyes. She wore expensive looking clothes, of course, the old styles that you dropped when you left. She carried herself proudly, but when she looked at her grandson you could see her eyes soften.

Scorpius swore under his breath, glancing instinctively at Rose. She looked disappointed, but not surprised. "I suppose it was too good to be true," she

said with a bit of a sigh. "I'm Rose, by the way. Rose Weasley."

"Narcissa Malfoy," she said, and your heart stops. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And this is the grandmother of the groom," Rose continued, pulling you over, "and a very dear family friend. Andr-" She froze mid-word, suddenly remembering the family history. "Merlin's beard," she whispered.

"What?" Scorpius asked.

She stared at you and you stared back at her. You watched as the pieces fell into place. Her eyes glanced over to the sign hanging over the tent, which proclaimed that this was The Wedding of Teddy Lupin and Victorie Weasley, then back to you. Lupin. Grandmother of the groom. Family friend. You swallowed, waiting, wondering, praying that she would find it in her to forgive you.

"Andi?" she whispered uncertainly.

"Cissy," you said, forcing the word through your clenched throat.

And then, somehow, she was in your arms, clinging to you as though she were drowning. And you were clinging back, holding onto her with every bit of strength you had. For the first time in many, many years, you allowed yourself to remember what it was like to have a sister.

When you finally pulled back from the hug, both of you were crying. Laughing slightly, you took in her new appearance. You didn't say anything. There was nothing to say, but at the same time, so much that had to be said.

"Were you happy?" she finally blurted out.

"Yes," you said instantly, and it was true. You had been happy, so incredibly happy, for so many years. And even once Ted and Nymphadora were gone, you had Teddy. "Were you?"

"Yes," she said.

"You stole my fiancé," you said, remember your shock when the news of the engagement had come.

She smiled ever so slightly. "I figured you wouldn't really mind."

"You were more than welcome to him."

There was an awkward silence, broken only by Scorpius starting to ask "What-" and Rose shushing him.

"I heard about Ted," she finally said. "And Nymphadora. I'm sorry."

You swallowed, the loss a little too close today. "Harry told me what you did for him," you said. "How you saved his life."

She laughed, a little bitterly. "Ironic, isn't it? So many years of being the good little one and then I betray everyone like that."

"It was the right thing to do," you said. "It ended the fighting."

She nodded. "That's all that mattered, in the end. I had to keep my family safe. Not that I did a very good job with that…"

"I'd say you did a wonderful job," you said, nodding to Scorpius.

Her mouth twisted wryly. "I lost both my sisters."

"So did I," you reminded her softly.

"It was your choice."

"I know," you said. "But try as I will, I can't regret it."

"You've really been happy, then?" she asked. "Despite everything?"

"Despite everything," you said.

She hesitated a moment, then said, "Bella…"

"I visited her grave," you said, rather more quickly than you intended. "I… it felt like the right thing to do."

"She never could forgive you," she said. "I don't think she ever understood."

"Did you?" you asked, then instantly regretted it. Did you actually want to know the answer?

"Not really," she said. "Not for a long time."

You remained silent. What was there to say to that?

"But after a while," she continued softly after a moment, "there didn't seem to be much point in hating you anymore. You did what you had to do."

"I shouldn't have left you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You were afraid that if you let them go, they would reach around her again. "I should have checked on you, made sure you were okay –"

"I was," she said. "I am. Lucius and I… we aren't you and Ted, but we're _happy_. Or we are now, anyway, since the end of the war."

"Really?" you couldn't help but ask, because you couldn't imagine it. Your little sister, the only light in that dark and gloomy house, happy in an arranged marriage with a Death Eater? For one awful moment, you were certain that it would never work. So much had happened since the last time you were together – you were completely different people now.

Fifty years. It had been fifty years – five whole decades – since you last spoke to your sister. And how often, in those fifty years, had you thought of her? Oh, at the beginning she was constantly in your thoughts, but recently? When Bella died you had thought of her and then instantly pushed the memories away. Forgetting was easier. You had needed a fresh start.

"Yes," she said, her slight smile showing she knew exactly what you were thinking. "Yes, I've been very happy." Her glance flickered to Scorpius, who still looked utterly perplexed. "Come meet your great-aunt," she said, holding out a hand to him.

"Great-aunt?" he repeated. He looked from you to her and back again. "Your sister?"

"My sister," she said with a proud smile. A faint memory flitted across your mind. You were thirteen and she had just started her first year at Hogwarts. She had been the only one in her dorm who was a younger child and had used that to her fullest advantage, bragging constantly about you and Bella.

"I thought you only had one sister," he said.

I laughed. "Oh, I was disowned years ago."

"What for?" he asked.

"Running off with a muggle born," Rose said. She was positively squirming with glee. "And then their daughter – you know the Marauder's Map?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Her daughter married Moony."

"Really?" he said, turning to me with awe written all over his face. "That's awesome."

"What's this map?" you asked.

They flushed. "Nothing," they said in unison.

"Well, if Remus was part of it, then I suppose Sirius must have been, too," you said.

"Padfoot," Rose said, nodding.

"Our cousin," you said.

"That's blo –"

"Scoprius."

"That's brilliant," he said with a grin.

"Rose!" yet another Weasley called. "C'mon! I've got something to show you!"

"It was nice to meet you," Scorpius said as Rose smiled to you. An instant later, they had disappeared into the crowd.

You felt, rather than heard, her sigh beside you. "His father is going to be furious."

"He'll survive," you said. "It might actually be good for him."

"All the old prejudices are disappearing," she said.

You had to laugh. "A blood traitor and a pureblood reuniting at the wedding of the granddaughter of the woman who killed their sister? I'd say."

"Andromeda's boy is getting married, then?" she asked. "To a Weasley?"

"Yes," you said. "They've grown up together. Harry being his godfather and all."

"Harry Potter?" she said in surprise. "His godfather? I didn't know that."

"Remus asked him during the last year of the war," you said.

"Did you ever see Sirius?" she asked.

"No," you said, regret filling your voice. "Not since the first war ended."

"But after you left?" she said. "I know he got in trouble for defending you."

"Did he?" You smile at the thought. "We met up in London once or twice after he ran away from home. I was glad Uncle Alphard gave him the money. Otherwise, I would have had to and I don't think I could have."

"I'm glad someone was happy about that," she said with a little laugh. "Mother was furious."

"I'm sorry I left you to all that," you said once more.

She smiled and slipped an arm around you. "It's all water under the bridge by now," she said. "And we've found each other again. That's what matters."

As you returned her embrace, you remembered why you loved weddings. Not because of the food or the cake or the dancing or the hundreds of friends, but because they brought you closer to the people you loved.

**A/N: This piece has the distinction of clinching my April 2013 Camp NaNoWriMo! With it, I hit 32,000 words. The rest was made up of various little bits and pieces that I hope to publish once I have a chance to finish them up. I've got another day to go, though, I might be insane and try to aim for 35,000. :D**

**If any of you haven't done NaNo in any of its forms, I **_**strongly**_** recommend it. It's absolutely amazing. Is it stressful? Yes. Do you have to be crazy to put yourself through that? Yes. It is totally 100% worth it? Definitely. Seriously. Go check it out now. nanowrimo . org or campnanowrimo . org or ywp . nanowrimo . org**

**As always, I will love you forever if you review. **


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